


Hidden Rooms

by mercurial_cool



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bittersweet, But also some tenderness, Confident Albert, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Knowledgeably Queer Arthur, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Questionable historical accuracy regarding said gay bars, Referenced past Arthur/OMC, Smut, Spoilers through Chapter 4, gay bars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28923363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurial_cool/pseuds/mercurial_cool
Summary: Arthur hears a rumor about a hidden saloon on the outskirts of St. Denis that caters to men who prefer the company of other men, and he goes there seeking the companionship of a stranger. However, while there he's surprised to run yet again into Albert Mason, who takes him home and helps him escape and enjoy himself - even if only for a night.
Relationships: Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 50





	Hidden Rooms

**Author's Note:**

> I should note that the depiction of late nineteenth century gay bars/culture in this fic is historically tenuous at best. :) I would imagine the kind of saloons I've written about did not exist in anywhere near this frequency or form, so to any actual queer historians reading this, enter at your own risk and with a hefty suspension of disbelief. (And please feel free to comment and correct me with fun history facts!)

He learned of the bar in the usual way that people learn of such places, hidden rooms tucked away in back alleys that are only spoken of in hushed tones by men whose need outweighs their fear. One overheard exchange between a well-connected bartender and a searching patron, infused with innuendo-laden phrases about "looking for a place to meet a friend," and Arthur found himself wandering towards the unnamed saloon on the outskirts of St. Denis on a sweltering summer night, his bones sore from days spent riding up and down Lemoyne.

It wasn't his first time seeking out a spot that catered to men like him, though the last time had been a few years back: a makeshift cellar bar in a city up north where he'd met and promptly bedded a reedy, sandy-haired man who had rutted against him with the desperation of a drowning man but who had staunchly refused to kiss him on the mouth. Arthur had learned over the years to take what he could get, when he could find it. Life on the run meant that it was never easy to know where to go or who to trust, so when fate allowed his world to temporarily collide with somewhere that would let him seek out the kind of company he couldn't find elsewhere, he made sure to take full advantage.

The last several months had left him longing for company more than he had in a long while. Not in a carnal sense, so much - he knew how to take care of himself when the urge overtook him. More so in the sense of craving a touch that didn't involve fists and dirt and blood. Everything just felt so _wrong_ lately, and when he woke each morning it was from nightmares of Blackwater and bloodied debtors and Sean's face frozen with a gruesome, bullet-pierced grin, and he just badly needed something to get his mind off things for a little while. So, when he caught wind of the hidden saloon just outside town that was open to patrons of a particular sort every other Friday night, the decision was an easy one; he'd told Dutch he was heading out to follow a lead about a boatload of wealthy tourists that might be worth robbing, given himself a rushed but needed bath in the river, and made his way out to the saloon according to the directions he'd heard the barman divulge.

The building he came to was an unremarkable one from the outside, a slightly crooked two-story place that looked more like a family home than a saloon. But the upbeat piano music audible from the inside and the large, mustachioed gentleman guarding the door gave away the building's true purpose. With a few dollars slipped to the doorman (who had shot a mildly disdainful look at Arthur's scuffed boots and ragged jeans), Arthur found himself inside and inhaled deeply as he was hit with the familiar combination of anticipation and unease that always accompanied places like this, places that weren't supposed to exist but did so anyway, hidden boldly in plain sight.

This particular establishment was more subdued than some he'd visited; there were men of a variety of ages and dress styles, some whose eyes were obviously scoping the room for people to disappear with into the darkened rooms upstairs, but most who seemed relatively content at the moment to sit or stand with a drink in their hand, the only giveaway of their supposed deviancy being the way they sometimes leaned a bit too close to or smiled a bit too long at the fellow they were talking to.

It was always a bit of a gamble to see what you'd get in these hidden-away places, whether it would be somewhere that oozed with sex, with men groping in corners and where you only had to make eye contact with someone before you were being dragged into a corridor to give or take pleasure, or if it would be the kind of spot filled mainly with old men smoking cigars who for the most part seemed more concerned with sharing stories and jibes than taking anyone's clothes off. Often, Arthur found he actually had a more enjoyable time at the latter sort of place than the former, which he imagined would have shocked his nineteen-year-old self who had been so overcome with lust when he first happened upon a business for men who preferred men that when he'd entered the place - a crowded, lively bar tucked away by the river in Chicago that had smelled like sweat and leather and smoke, which he'd learned about from eavesdropping on some lawmen discussing where they'd managed to earn their highest bribes - he hadn't been able to even bring himself to leave with anyone, and instead had just stared and stared at the men rubbing and kissing and necking one another before returning to the cabin he'd been sharing with Dutch and John and Hosea and furtively but frantically touching himself to the memory for the next twelve nights.

He'd still felt shame then, over his desires, but he didn't anymore, not really. Or rather, the guilt of desiring something he knew he shouldn't was so tangled up with the larger mass of guilt that lived in a heavy, dark knot inside him that it didn't trouble him individually. He was wicked and wrong and evil for so many other reasons that he figured any god would be much more troubled by than who he fucked, so it wasn't something that bothered him especially much, though he was always careful to keep things hidden from the gang and the law to avoid any trouble. He had wondered on occasion if the looks Hosea gave him after some of Arthur's "nights out" were a bit too knowing, but for the most part he was confident in his discretion and happy to just indulge this side of himself when he had the opportunity to take advantage of these hidden worlds away from his life and troubles.

This particular place he'd found himself in seemed to be just what Arthur needed for a bit of escape. As he took a seat at the bar and waited for the waifish, dark-haired barman to come over, he found himself thinking that regardless of whether or not he went to bed with anyone tonight, it was still worthwhile to get away from the oppressive atmosphere of Shady Belle and the weight of responsibility that he constantly felt on his shoulders. However, he quickly found that train of thought interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Mr. Morgan! Good heavens, is that really you?" Arthur started a bit to see Albert Mason walking up to him from a side of the room that had previously been hidden from view, a surprised but warm smile on his face. "I can hardly believe it. I saw you walk in and thought, why, that imposing figure looks awful familiar, doesn't he? And then when you got a bit closer I realized it was none other than my guardian angel of the great outdoors! Oh, do you mind if I have a seat here? You're a whiskey drinker, right? Peter, get this man a glass of your finest Lemoyne bourbon, on my tab! He's more than earned it, after saving my hide from many a gruesome end. One for me too, if you don't mind."

Albert gave the bartender - Peter, apparently - a familiar wave as he began pouring the drinks, and Arthur couldn't help but to huff out a laugh at Albert's merry exuberance, now that he had recovered from the initial shock of encountering someone he knew in what he had assumed would be a room full of strangers. He was not altogether surprised to learn that Mr. Mason shared his proclivities - he'd had his suspicions, and they'd only grown with each of their run-ins, culminating in Albert's latest brush with danger amidst a swamp full of hungry gators - and despite Arthur's desire for an escape, running into Albert was not unwelcome, since he too seemed to occupy a space in Arthur's mind and life that existed somehow separately from the grueling brutality of his everyday routine.

The bartender slid the drinks their way, and Arthur picked his up and raised it in a small toast towards the other man. "Thank you kindly, Mr. Mason. It's good to see you're still alive and well."

"As I said, that's thanks in large part to your interventions, Mr. Morgan," Albert said, raising his glass as well. "And please, call me Albert."

"Well in that case, I believe you should call me Arthur." As they both took their first large draw from their glasses, Arthur felt something in the air around them change, a tension that brought a familiar heat to his belly and a flush to his face. It was these moments that he often enjoyed even more than the pleasures that came later, the instants when he and the man before him both _knew_ , down to their bones, that they would not be going home alone. His eyes held with Albert's for a moment, and he knew that he had felt it too.

"So, Mr. Mason - Albert - have you been keeping yourself out of trouble like I asked last time we spoke?"

"Oh, hardly," Albert laughed. "I seem to have a knack for stumbling into danger wherever I go. Why, just a few days ago I came across the most beautiful snake just off the side of the road, and as I got set up to take a photograph and it started up rattling, I realized it was a diamondback rattlesnake! What an exciting opportunity, I thought, to capture such a majestic yet dangerous creature in its wild habitat. You should have seen its pattern - just marvelous."

"You know," Arthur interrupted, smiling as he took another drink. "When they rattle, they're telling you to stay away. Not many men would take that as an invitation to set up shop and invite it to dinner."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me that now. The blasted thing bit me!"

" _What?_ "

"Oh yes, as I was reaching into my bag, it darted out and got me, right in the ankle. Hurt like the devil, too! If I hadn't just read about dealing with snake venom in a book concerning fauna of the Southern United States, I imagine I wouldn't be sitting here next to you now. But no, I somehow managed to stumble far enough away that I was out of its sight, and then, if you can believe it, I sat right there on the ground and sucked the poison out myself. I must have made a shocking sight, twisted up like a pretzel on the side of the road, but it did the trick enough that I was able to get back up on my horse and ride into town to see a proper doctor. I didn't even manage to get a picture." The last sentence was the only one where Albert's voice held any evidence of real distress, and Arthur shook his head, laughing.

"You are either the bravest or the most foolish man I've ever come across," he said, ensuring his voice was warm and teasing so that Albert knew he wasn't making fun. "Maybe both."

"Oh, I would place emphasis on the 'foolish' part myself," Albert chuckled. "I certainly could have used my trusty bodyguard for that last instance - I imagine there are any number of ways you could have aided me in more gracefully avoiding an early demise."

Unbidden, a vivid image suddenly popped into Arthur's mind of his lips and tongue pressed to one of Albert's delicate ankles as they might have done if he'd been there to help, and he had to shift in his seat and lower his head for another large swig of whiskey to cover the flush that he knew had crept up his cheeks.

They sat for a while like that, sharing more stories and laughter and allowing their bodies to grow looser with drink as the evening went on. Arthur could not remember a time in the past year when he'd felt more relaxed. Something about Albert's dogged optimism and easy comfort in his own skin was infectious. Arthur thought back to how, even when Albert had called himself a fool or a damsel in distress, his words had never been laced with the same bitter animus that Arthur's would have been if he'd been speaking that way about himself.

Before he could even realize what was happening, an hour had passed, and he found that they were both leaning quite close to each other, empty glasses littering the counter in front of them. Arthur was midway through telling Albert about his failed mission to tame a striking white Arabian he'd come across in Ambarino, when Albert interrupted him with a gentle hand on his thigh.

"Arthur, I don't want to be too forward, but considering where we've found ourselves..." He trailed off, appearing a bit nervous for the first time that evening. Arthur looked at him and quirked a half smile in encouragement, wanting Albert to finish the question himself. "Would you like to stay the night with me? Either here, or, or maybe at the apartment I've been renting not too far from here. I'd like you to. If you'd like to."

As Albert stumbled over his words, Arthur placed his own hand gently over Albert's for a moment and couldn't keep the heat out of his voice as he said, simply, " _yes_." They quickly settled up their bill and walked out of the bar, and Arthur felt the back of his neck prickle with the knowing stares of the other men they passed on their way out. The night air felt cool on his skin, but it did nothing to subdue the warmth in his midsection that had grown in intensity each time Albert had edged closer to him. As they walked side-by-side in the direction of Albert's apartment, their hands occasionally brushed with what felt to Arthur like a burst of electricity, but they could do no more than that for fear of being caught out by a wandering drunk with ill intentions or a lawman on patrol.

Soon enough, they came upon Albert's building, and he led Arthur to a door around back that opened up to a modest dining and living area with photographs covering every wall that Arthur could see - tenderly captured images of animals, people, the land - and a door coated with peeling paint off to the side that Arthur assumed led into Albert's bedroom. He felt a sudden small pang of nerves at the intimacy of being inside Albert's home, and he opened his mouth to make some banal comment about the coziness of the décor, but he was only able to get out a strangled "I like what you've -" before he found himself cut off, pushed up against the front door by an eager armful of photographer.

Albert kissed the way he talked, quickly and joyfully and with a complete lack of self-consciousness. Arthur was happy to respond in kind, tangling his large hand into Albert's hair and leaning into his body, tasting the drink on Albert's lips and feeling his hardness against his thigh through a layer of denim and corduroy. Arthur wanted to feel more, so he slipped his hand down to cup Albert's length over his pants as Albert's teeth scraped a gentle path along Arthur's jawline.

Albert chuckled as Arthur squeezed, huffing a breath into the skin of Arthur's neck. "I've been hard since you finished your last drink. Watching you lick the bourbon off your lips was enough to nearly drive me to an early grave once again, my friend."

Arthur inhaled sharply at that, the boldness of the words whispered so softly into his ear enough to compel him into rutting abruptly against Albert's body, seeking out friction to help him ease the roiling heat inside him. Albert followed his lead, rubbing himself against Arthur's midsection and hand before frantically reaching between them to begin undoing the buttons of each of their trousers. Arthur had to bite back a moan as Albert quickly but gently shucked off Arthur's jeans and began working at the buttons of his shirt, planting quick kisses onto each new strip of skin that was bared before continuing on his dogged mission to divest Arthur of every item of clothing he had on.

When he had finally managed to get Arthur completely naked, his clothes scattered in piles around them, Albert took a step back to look him over admiringly, and Arthur couldn't help the blush that he knew was spreading across his body. He felt vulnerable, leaning against the door completely nude while Albert stood across from him clothed but disheveled, his trousers unbuttoned and his hair tousled. Arthur had half a mind to bring down a hand to cover the erection that jutted largely and obviously out from his body, but he was stilled by the way Albert's gaze slid over him. He was looking at him the same way he'd looked at the gators on the banks or the wolves just before they'd attacked, as though he was something to be marveled over, fearsome and rare and beautiful.

Arthur squirmed, feeling at once bashful and more fiercely turned on than he could ever remember feeling. "Albert," he said after a moment, standing up straight and flushing at how his hardness bobbed with the movement. "Usually this is the part where we _both_ take our clothes off."

"Oh, I'm getting there, Arthur. I just need a moment to take in the beautiful sight before me." He laughed softly, his mouth twisting into a crooked grin as his eyes continued roaming Arthur's body intently. "You know, from the first time I watched you chasing after that mischievous coyote, I wondered what you'd look like naked. How thick your cock would be, how strong your thighs would look, how dense the hair on your chest might grow. As much as I imagined it, I'm finding that the real thing far surpasses any portrait my mind might have produced. You'll excuse me if I take my time savoring this image before I lose myself in it."

Arthur again felt staggered by the boldness of Albert's words. As someone who spent more than a little effort each day to keep his feelings and thoughts inside, to not give voice to the persistent fears and doubts and hopes that were always straining to burst forth from him, there was something intoxicating about being with someone so unfiltered in how he spoke. Arthur wrapped a hand loosely around his straining erection, beginning to grow so hard that it ached, and that seemed to snap Albert out of his reverie. He stepped forward and batted Arthur's hand away to replace it with his own, and from there everything suddenly began to move much more quickly, as Arthur's hands worked on their own accord in a frenzied effort to rid Albert of his clothes and Albert began intently pumping the hand that he had wrapped loosely around Arthur's cock.

Once Albert was fully nude, Arthur took a moment to admire his body - his lean hips, the dark pink buds of his nipples, the downy fur that trailed from his soft belly to the base of his erection, which had a pearl of milky fluid leaking from the tip. However, he soon couldn't keep himself from pulling Albert close to him, causing them both to let out a groan as their lengths lined up perfectly with one another, Albert's cock leaving a small damp spot on Arthur's abdomen where it bumped against it.

Arthur spit into the palm of one of his large hands and wrapped it around both of them at once, pumping them desperately while Albert kissed him deeply, his arms wrapped tightly around Arthur's neck while his tongue lapped gently against his teeth. Arthur was surprised how quickly he began feeling his orgasm build up - he'd thought the drinks would give him more time, but it was only a few short minutes before he had to suddenly stop and pinch the base of his cock in order to prevent the proceedings from coming to an early end. In past encounters of this nature, his goal had usually been to get his completion however he could and move on, but he found himself wanting to explore more of Albert's body, to make the evening last as long as it could.

Albert gave a short, desolate groan when Arthur stopped his movements, but then chuckled against Arthur's mouth when he realized why. "Close, are you?," he murmured, tangling his fingers into Arthur's chest hair. "I am too. Come, let's move into the bedroom."

Arthur followed him into the small, comfortable room, admiring Albert's hindquarters as he bent over to light an oil lamp on the dresser across from the bed and grab something from the top drawer. In the flickering glow of the lamp, Arthur was struck once again by how much he enjoyed just looking at Albert's body, and how different it felt to be doing these things with someone he knew, who he could even perhaps consider a friend. He had no illusions that whatever this was could go beyond a one-time dalliance - there were any number of reasons that made anything more than that a terrible, impossible idea - but he couldn't help but feel a dull ache at the thought that he couldn't just stay here in Albert Mason's cozy apartment forever.

Albert turned around and gave him a questioning look, and he seemed to sense that something in Arthur's mood had shifted, for when he approached him this time he did it not with the frenzied urgency of before, but with a kind of slow, careful gentleness, the way someone might approach a skittish mare to show that they could be trusted. Albert laid a warm hand on Arthur's cheek, lowering his face a bit so that he could lay a dry, tender kiss on Arthur's forehead, and Arthur felt just for a moment that his heart might be quietly breaking.

With a warm, secretive smile, Albert pushed Arthur down into a seated position on the bed, and though his lust had lost some of the frantic heat it had built towards when they were rutting together in the entryway, he found the sight of Albert lowering his nude body down to straddle Arthur's lap to be undeniably erotic. His body responded in kind, his cock twitching against Albert's own length that was once again pressed flush against him.

He saw that Albert had brought a small bottle with him from his dresser, and he couldn't help but let out a brief moan when he realized what Albert was planning on using it for. Albert surprised him by closing his hand over Arthur's mouth, his eyes dancing with laughter. "I'll remind you that I live in an apartment, Arthur - I do have neighbors. My landlady has always been kind to me, but I'd imagine that kindness has _some_ limits."

He removed the hand from Arthur's mouth and began uncapping the bottle, dipping two fingers in to coat them with the silky fluid before reaching behind himself, and Arthur had to bite his lip to fight back another groan as he watched Albert slowly moving his body up and down on his own fingers, his still-straining cock leaking against Arthur's stomach with each roll of his hips.

"You've been inside a man before, yes?" Albert asked him, his voice sounding ragged with the sensation of what he was doing to himself.

"Yeah, I... I have, but not like this," Arthur replied, surprised at the raw need evident in his own voice. He'd intended 'not like this' to mean he'd not been ridden in the way that he imagined Albert was about to do, had not been able to look into a man's eyes while he entered him, while he fucked him. But he realized as he said it that there were so many other ways that it had never been like this before. He'd never felt lust intermingled with affection quite like this, had never wanted so badly to hold and kiss someone at the same time as desiring to see them spread open and moaning his name. No, it hadn't been like this ever before, not with any man or woman.

He groaned softly as he heard the wet pop of Albert removing his fingers from himself, his body trembling with want as he braced himself for what he knew was coming next. Albert kissed him gently as he lined himself up, the kiss turning hard as he began to lower himself down onto Arthur's rigid cock, both of them breathing out a quiet " _o_ _h_ " of pleasure against the other's lips as Albert sunk down to the base.

"Arthur... you feel marvelous," Albert whispered, his eyes closed tightly in a rapturous expression. As he began moving methodically on top of Arthur, his tightness and warmth enveloping him perfectly, Arthur knew that he would not last for much longer. He leaned back on his elbows, giving them both more room to maneuver, and as Albert continued to breathlessly ride him he grabbed Albert's cock in a tight grip and began to tug, pumping him in time with the movement of Albert's hips. Albert let out a small, high-pitched sound and threw his head back, writhing on Arthur's body with abandon as a thick bead of pre-come dripped from the dark red head of his erection. Arthur saw a drop of sweat run from his tousled hair down towards the line of his beard and suddenly had a desperate urge to lick it, so he did, leaning forwards and running his tongue in a thick stripe along the salty skin of Albert's temple.

That movement somehow seemed to push Albert over the edge. As his up-and-down movement on Arthur's cock began to feel less rhythmic and more frenzied, Arthur quickened the pace of his fist on Albert's length and felt Albert clench around him before his hand and stomach grew damp with Albert's come, his cock twitching two, three, four times in Arthur's hand before he slumped bonelessly forward towards Arthur, exhaling hotly onto his neck. From there, it only took Arthur another three thrusts up into Albert's pliant body before he, too, was coming, moaning his release into Albert's sweat-soaked shoulder before lying back on the bed with a thump, pulling Albert down with him, his cock slipping gently out of Albert as it began to soften.

For several minutes they just laid there together, their chests moving against one another as they breathed, Arthur feeling like he could easily slip into a deeper sleep than he'd managed in months. But just as he felt himself drifting off, Albert nuzzled his beard against Arthur's cheek and grumbled that "we should do something about this almighty mess we've made," and Arthur found himself groggily helping Albert to wipe them both down and strip the sweat- and come-soaked blankets from the bed, replacing them with a soft quilt from Albert's linen closet that was patterned with pine trees and families of deer.

At some point Arthur had slipped his underpants back on, but Albert remained naked as they tidied up, and it made Arthur smile to see more evidence of just how comfortable Albert was in his own skin, unconcerned about how he looked as he gesticulated wildly while describing to Arthur his plans to capture some photographs of a nearby den of bear cubs, his flaccid cock hanging sweetly between his legs. (Arthur reminded himself to ask Albert to please track him down to come along on that particular journey, though he suspected that Albert would somehow manage to make it through just fine either way.)

It seemed to be assumed that Arthur would stay the rest of the night, and he was more than happy not to challenge that assumption. As they both sat back down heavily onto the bed, Arthur looked down and noticed a large, yellowed bruise on the inside of Albert's ankle, just above the bone, with two small, healing indentations in the middle: his snake bite. Before he could stop himself with worries about looking foolish, Arthur moved down the bed and gently picked up Albert's foot, placing a soft, chaste kiss on the center of the wound. He then set his foot back down and scooted back up to the head of of the bed, slipping his legs under the covers and blushing furiously as he wondered why he'd felt such a compulsion.

Albert seemed to have a similar question, looking at him with a soft smile on his face as he too got under the covers. "Whatever was that for?"

"I don't know. I..." He fidgeted, twisting the quilt between his fingers. "It was an apology, I think. For not being there to help you. For any other times that I haven't been there to help you, or that I won't be. And it was a thank you. For tonight." He sighed, knowing that Albert would have been better able than he was to put words to what he was feeling, wondering how it could be that he was feeling so happy and sad at the same time.

"Oh, Arthur." Albert rested a hand over his, smiling. "Do you realize you might just be the kindest man I know?"

Arthur gave a surprised, bitter laugh at that. "There ain't nothing kind about me."

"That's not true," Albert said forcefully, sounding confident enough that in his sleepy, sated state, Arthur could almost believe him. He knew that he'd wake up tomorrow and return to Shady Belle and live once again in his real world, a world of killing and robbing and violence and hate. But for now, he could close his eyes and tuck his body up against someone kind and imagine a world where he might be kind too, where the dark knot of guilt and shame inside him could maybe one day be unraveled with a quick pull of a clever hand. As he felt Albert's breaths slow and deepen beside him, he let himself forget and believe, just for a moment, that he was home.


End file.
